Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1887-02-25

witched him long ago TO make him run al
ter Mercy and We, Daniel Strong, have
cause to remember the luck she gave him.
lut if he takes side with the Devil, the two
together may well be- too much for the hon
est men Of Harpswell.' 5.-f-.'
The appeal produced an instant and pow
crfu eject aud the angry retort of Jacob
Thatcher was drowned in the cries Of as
sent and approval that answered Johnston's
words.
That Thatcher was the lover of Mercy
Slower was well enough known in IA com
munitv where man was hardly able to
keep even his thoughts TO himself, and the
reference to this fact impeached at once
the sincerity and impartiality Of his inter
ference By abiding, moreover, TO an old
rivalry that extended to boats, athletics,
and all interests that the narrow life Of
Harpswell permitted, and that Thatcher
was always victor in, Johnston had secured
for himself Il powerful support Not only
Daniel Strong, but The young men gener-
ally smarted under II secret sense of defeat,
while the coincidence between the univer-
sal success Of the winner and his fOndness
for the witcls daughter was exactly the
sort Of argument that appealed most strong
" to the superstitious iisherfolk.
The crowd once more broke into speech
which was rather babble than clamor
and which became more angry as it swelled.
The words of Priest Eaton were lost in the
noise. Jacob Thatcher placed himself be
tween the bier and his townsfolk, but even
his stout shoulders seemed slight enough
barrier against sacIilege TO the dead.
1t was one of those chaotic and critical
moments in the progress Of a mob when it
is broken into innumerable separate groups
in angry dispute, and when it is idle to
reach it as a whole until some striking incl
dent unites once more itsvdivided attention.
1t is usually true, moreover, that upon the
| first general impression that shall be exert
ed on a mob AZ such a crisis depends its
action. 1t is at its most impressionable
stage and will readily take the stamp of
whatever idea is strongly presented to it.
BY this time the crowd collected at the
churchyard gate included almost every hui
man being in the village, and it had assllm-
ed the character of a genuine mob. The
circumstances OF Priest Eaton, the entreatics
Of tlkniah Slower. the appeal Of Mercy and
the Interference of Jacob Thatcher had all
proved of no avail, and there seemed small
hope but Ezra Johnston would carry his
point, and that the body Of the dead Quall-
eress would DC cast III dishonor upon the
Jagged rocks of the Devils Den.
Help ut th, desperate crisis came from
an unthought-Of source. BY one of those
| strange thrills that seem to reach the mind
through some sense beyond the five and to
appeal to some faculty more subtle, the
excited villagers became aware that some
thing new had happened. \ sudden hush
spread over the wild company. Excited
| fsh-V,ives paused with open mouths in the
midst of their haranguings, and stretched
their necks toward the bier the angry
men broke oil their noisy wrangling 10 turn
their eyes i'm the same direction even
| Mercy who had chung convulsively to her
| father in the terror OF seeing familiar faces
| transformed into strangeness before her
eyes by superstition and rage, turned to
look toward the coffin. 1t was only old
| Goody Cole, who had at this critical mo-
ment made her lettering way up to the bier
aud flung herself down upon it. Lame and
decrepit, weak and wandering in her wits,
/ the poor old creature. whose stream of life
| had been 50 thin that fo almost century
it had trickled on without draining even
| the ordinary measure of human existence,
had only Just been able to complete the
journey from lIarpswell Neck. All the
| long woodland track she had come to lay
her blessing upon Goodwife Stover's grave.
In a wall that had in it the pathos of the
sound of the wind in the forest, the wretch
ed crone cried over and over, with heart
| broken reiterance
"Oh, but she was my life Oh, but she
was my life :"
The cry was 50 intense that it thrilled
even the stolid iishmen Of Harpswell Neck,
| perhaps for the time being rendered more
sensitive than usual by unwonted excite
ment The tension of their nerves became
d Il n
| studied groups, picturesque and strange.
| The brief November afternoon was darken-
/ ing to its close. long lines of fiery light
breaking the cold gray of the western sky.
4 few scant snow flakes were silently steal
through the air, falling upon the angry vii
| layers. upon the tall form of Priest Eaton,
with white locks and black gown, upon the
| strong, young figure of Jacob Thatcher,
| standing sentinel between his townsfolk and
the dead, upon the pathetic group of father
and daughter and amid them all that with
cred century-old figure of Goody Cole, re
| peatiug in shril monotone:
'Oh, but she was my life -
They all understood that cry. There was
no one there but knew well how long Goody
| Cole had been a pensioner ON the bounty of
| Goodwife Slower, They might all remem-
| Der, too if they chose. that Goody Cole,
whom they lad left to the tender mercies
of a woman they called "A witch, was the
| widow of man that had lost his life carry
| ing help to "a vessel on which were the
fathers and husbands of people still alive
and in this angry crowd. Goody Cole had
/ been TOO proud to go ON the parish, and her
neighbors half century ago had sworn
! that she should never come to want Now,
| only the charity Of this Quaker woman
| ba1 10, nl
starvation.
oh but she was my life !" quavered the
| trembling, aged voice. over and over. "Oh,
but she was my life -
Pricked to the heart, two other women,
almost young enough to be Goody Coles
| granddaughters, came out from the crowd
and kneeled beside her, bowling their heads
with sobs upon the coffin. There was a
rustic and stir among the bystanders. They
| knew well enough what cause of gratitude
these two had. Everybody knew all that
| happened ON Harpswell Neck, and remem-
| bered now how to one Of these women
Goodwife Slower had come in the agonizing
horror of childbirth, saving angel and
how beside the bed Of the second she had
watched when n malignant disease kept
every other woman on the Neck away,
''Oh, hut she was my life - shrilled Goody
! Cole, her voice rising in thrilling strain
which made the excited woman shiver as
! if with cold
The crowd Of iish-wives wavered Then
| Goodwife Mayo, whose stout muscles had
uut-tred those of all the other bearers ON
the long march from Elkniah Stover's cot
tage 10 the shadow of the square meeting
house in which they stood, strobe forward
again 10 the coffin. She set her arms AKIN
! bo mud looked about her
And We, Betty Hincks, she demanded,
"who gave We that cloak ye're wearing this
very hour And ye, Martha Hastings, who
brought We through the fever last fall
And We, Andrew Gates who nursed your
wife in haymg time If Hannah Slower
was witch, well would it be for Harpswell
Neck if We had more of Them
ooh, but she was my life - came in the
piercing cry of Goody Cole, like refrain
rising still higher. "Oh, but she was my
life I"
Take up the bier" Priest Eaton cried
with a gesture at once of dignity and OF
command. BURY her wherever these men
will. The ground will be consecrated
wherever her body lies. Take it to the
Devils Den, he went on, the occasion in
spring him with unwonted fire, and tel
you that Devils Den will be holy if Good
wife Stover's corpse comes there :"
A wave of sudden feeling swept over the
people like mighty wind. As if obeying
a common impulse, they rushed forward
with sobs and broken CALCULATIONS TO raise
the bier.
But Goodwife Mayo waved them back.
NO. she said no man shall touch this
bier The women that have brought it Sc
far in spite of their husbands orders car
carry it the rest of the way ~
There was "A murmer of mingled assent
contrition and remonstrance but il was ii
the end rs Goodwife Mayo said.
Followed by all the men even TO Ezrl
Johnston, who scowled but yielded TO tn,